Thursday, September 22, 2005

S, XII

Anyone who can do any hallucinogen and listen to both of these records without losing their mind should immediately be enrolled in either the Marines or the space program, no shit.

There’s two varieties of sinister on this record- the bludgeoning heaviness of repetition, Gira shouting his bare, grinding epithets about damnation and regret, voice scraping low registers as Jarboe spins her gorgeous, warbling siren’s call, luring the freaks closer to the stage only to be driven into the ground like so many railroad spikes. The other half is composed of the pretty, minimal screeds that Jarboe delivers with grace and beauty. It’s the dichotomy, the same trick that like the Pixies and Nirvana used, loud/soft for max effect. Thing is, though, that Swans weren’t doing the trick in the confines of songs- they chose to hit you with a loud song, then a soft one, etc. over the course of an album. The schizophrenia of the act makes them so much stronger, impactful, jumping from allure to savagery in zip flat.

Swell- For All The Beautiful People

See my Supergrass review for why this CD doesn’t get pulled out too often. My particular copy has either been autographed by a member of the band or scribbled on by an infant- still doesn’t change the fact that I’d rather be listening to like “Under Pressure” than to a disc of atmospheric guitar-leaning indie pop, no matter how adequate it is.